The Apple Inspector short story


This chatty young girl just doesn’t stop talking, but there’s something else going on in her family. {excerpt below}.

The Apple Inspector was one of the first short stories I ever wrote. It was inspired by a bolshie young girl I met on the bus once who would have divulged her life story. And my breast cancer. But don’t worry, it’s not all sad.

The Apple Inspector was a Finalist in the Momaya Press 2010 Short Story Competition and included in their anthology, on the theme of ‘Family’. It was my very first competition win and publication!

You can buy the anthology instead on Lulu: Paperback {£14} | Ebook {£9}

💝 Every story comes with one additional custom dedication – simply click “Edit Order Notes” on the Checkout page to add your message (or I’ll happily make one up 😊). After purchase, you’ll be able to download your PDF + you’ll be sent 1 custom dedication PDF via email within 2-3 working days.



Mum’s got rotten apples. Apples is the only fruit I’ll eat. They have to be red all over with not one bit of green. Except Pink Ladies, I’ll have those, because I like their name. They make me think of Nan having her friends round for afternoon tea. She used to only let me have the scabby plastic cup, but this Sunday she gave me the good china. I was so chuffed, but very nervous. Patricia lets me call her Patty, but everyone else has to use her given name. I love her dangly earrings, they’re like fairy chandeliers with tinkling rubies and diamonds. Nan says they’re fake, just glass, but Patty says Gramps only ever bought Nan pearls.

I like ears, they’re weird. Nan’s ears are really small, so best suited to studs. Patty’s ears have been stretched by all that heavy jewellery; they must feel like Mum’s soft suede gloves. After I’ve admired Patty’s new earrings, I tell all Nan’s friends that Mum said she used to have to roll my ears out when I was a baby, ‘cause they were paper thin. Every morning when she came to see me at that special baby unit, they’d rolled themselves right back in again. They even gave her a teeny tiny rolling pin for babies like me who wanted to see the world too soon. So that’s why I’m not allowed to get my ears pierced till I’m fourteen. By the time I’ve finished afternoon tea at Nan’s, I’m all sticky from jam and crumpets and candyfloss lipstick kisses.


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💌 Buy the short story {+ custom dedication} above for just 99p! Please note, you will receive a PDF via email. Personal licence for 1 copy but you can buy more as a gift 😊.